AIDA- The Algorithm of Utility
by Jubalii
Summary: The Algorithm of Utility is indeed useful; it can be applied to almost any aspect of life as we know it. Food, Marketing, even love can be explained by this nifty little algorithm. Of course, sometimes we learn it the hard way.


**Author's Note:** Blame Bus-Com class. This is what college education does to young, impressionable minds.

* * *

The Algorithm of Utility (AIDA):  
**A=Attention**

* * *

Seras was so tired of hearing "What are you doing?" that by the time Sir Integra got the words out of her mouth one Friday afternoon the Draculina had spun around with a snappy retort before she could even think. Sir Integra's eyebrows rose and the corner of her mouth fell slightly.

"I see we've woken on the wrong side of the bed," she retorted. Seras sighed and visibly wilted, her shoulders slumping and knees bending. It was clear the vampiress was exhausted.

"Coffin," she corrected Sir Integra with another, louder sigh. "I'm sorry," she added. "I didn't mean to be cross with you, of all people." She smiled half-heartedly at the elderly heiress; after 50-odd years of living with only each other and a handful of men for company, the two women were closer than most sisters.

"It's alright," Sir Integra replied, her head nodding once in acceptance to the younger woman's apology. She eyed her carefully, her one good eye taking in the eternally young woman's posture. Her mouth tightened and she laid a veiny hand on Seras' shoulder. "I know it must be hard for you, not having half as many missions as ten or twenty years ago," she acknowledged quietly. Seras laughed and waved her hand off, shaking her head.

"It's not that at all," she said, only half-lying. _Of course _she was bored hanging around the manor all the time. Even the bodyguard work had fallen back to Alucard once he'd returned. Sure, she'd hated bodyguard duty, but at least it had given her something to do, to use her pent-up energy towards a purpose. "It's Alucard," she admitted. "He's been asking me that same question at least a dozen times every night. It's annoying!"

"Annoying?" Sir Integra repeated, her hand stroking her chin. "A dozen times, you say?" Seras scowled as she realized the older woman was teasing her. Sir Integra laughed at the dark expression. "Yet fifty years ago you would have been happy for the attention he's so graciously showering you with." She tilted her head and studied the soldier in front of her. "If it's gotten that bad, why haven't you come to me? I can stop it with one word, you know."

"I know; trust me, I've been tempted to do just that." Seras crossed her arms and rocked on the balls of her feet. "But I need to handle stuff on my own. Otherwise _he's_ going to say that I just went from leaning on him to leaning on you." Sir Integra nodded knowingly. "Besides, fifty years ago I didn't know anything. I'm a bit more grounded now, I would say." Seras laughed and shook her head. "But then again, I was young."

"You're _still_ young," Sir Integra teased. Seras rolled her eyes. "By Alucard's standards, anyway." She pulled a silver case out of her pocket and opened it to get a cigar. "You know, I've noticed. You've drifted apart; you and him, I mean. You used to be so close." She stuck the cigar between her teeth and searched around for a lighter in her suit coat. She finally found one and a moment later the sweet tang of tobacco scented the air. "What happened?"

"We weren't close by any means," Seras said. "We only spent so much time together because he had to train me. I don't need his training anymore, so he never found another reason to talk to me, I guess."

"But you were happy when he returned," Sir Integra countered. Seras nodded.

"Of course," she said with a wistful smile. "He was my Master, back then. It was different." She coughed as smoke floated in front of her. "Stop blowing that at me," she grumbled. "You know I hate the taste of that stuff. It's bad enough the Captain does it, but it's going to kill you one of these days."

"Hmm." Sir Integra shrugged. "As I recall, you told Captain Bernadotte the exact same thing, and cigarettes weren't what killed _him_." Seras growled in frustration as Sir Integra's soft chuckles mingled with the disembodied, echoing laughter of her familiar.

"I'm serious!" she whined. "You're going to get emphysema or something! It's a wonder your teeth aren't yellow and you can still breathe without an oxygen tank strapped to your back!" Sir Integra laughed harder and immediately choked on cigar smoke. She hacked for a moment as Seras pounded her back, being careful to not hit too hard and knock the woman into the wall. Seras stared pointedly as the heiress regained her breath. "See?"

"Stop changing the subject," Sir Integra said hoarsely, still choking slightly as she tried to finish her cigar. "We're not talking about my habits. We're talking about you being annoyed by your other."

"He's not _my _other," Seras huffed. "He just happens to live down the hall from me."

"Is that so?" a ghostly voice sounded, muffled by the wall. Sir Integra smiled and a moment later a crimson-clad man leaned out of the woodwork, his elbow on the elderly woman's shoulder as his torso hung from the wall. "I felt my ears burning, Master. You women; centuries pass and you're still nothing but gossiping hens." Sir Integra bowed her shoulders in allowance; Seras sniffed and crossed her arms even tighter over her chest. Alucard raised one slender brow at her behavior, but said nothing.

"Seras is angry because you've been annoying her lately. She seems to have liked it better when you finished your training and ignored her," Sir Integra explained light-heartedly. Alucard grinned, both eyebrows rising even higher.

"Oh, is that so?" he murmured, though his voice was still loud enough to echo slightly in the hall. "I had a feeling that back then you felt rather jilted, Police Girl." Seras turned on them both, clearly considering them a tag team effort. She had her playing field evened as the hallway shadows swirled and her familiar appeared, leaning on her shoulder in a mirror version of Alucard and tipping his hat to Sir Integra.

"I'm not a Police Girl anymore," she informed them coldly. "I haven't been for a long time. I'd prefer you to stop calling me that, if you would." Sir Integra actually looked saddened, but Alucard only chuckled darkly.

"Perhaps," Alucard conceded. "But to me you'll always be that tiny, defenseless Police Girl." He grinned mockingly at her, his teeth glinting sharply in the light. Sir Integra gave him a "stop-being-so-mean" look. Seras bristled, but after a terse moment she blinked and exhaled, turning away.

"I'm going to my bedroom. I'm a little tired this evening," she said evenly. Sir Integra frowned, her eyebrows knitting in concern.

"Are you eating enough? I'll adjust your daily allowance if you need me too," she said quickly. Seras stopped walking and thought for a moment before shaking her head.

"No, I think I'm fine. I just need a bit more sleep. You're right, Sir—sometimes the nights weigh on me. I need a mission of some sort," she said with a laugh that sounded a little too forced before vanishing into thin air along with the dead Captain. Sir Integra watched her leave before heaving a sigh and turning to her servant.

"You shouldn't be so cruel to her," she fussed. "Either leave her alone or stay with her; don't sway between the two. It hurts her more than she lets on." Alucard stepped fully out of the wall and leaned against it, staring at the spot where Seras had vanished.

"Do you think so," he asked flatly, no emotion in his tone. Sir Integra glared at him before pulling another cigar from her case. Dealing with her "pet" vampire made her twice as stressed, although now it was more from latent subconscious habit rather than him being a prick. She'd noticed that he'd eased up on her as she moved into her so-called golden years. Perhaps he thought he should give her the rest she deserved.

"I know so," she snapped. "Even though you've been getting on her nerves, she hasn't come to me because she still wants you to think that she's strong enough to handle things on her own. What does that tell you?" When no answer came, she continued. "I'll tell you what it shows me—even if you two aren't master and servant or whatever-the-hell it was, she still values your opinion of her. And that means she still values you, though I have no idea _why_."

"That makes two of us," he replied, and by the time it dawned on her what he'd just said he was gone.

* * *

"All of you!" Seras kicked her way around her bedchambers, hating the world. "All of you look at me and only see a poor, weak Police Girl!" Pip sat on her bed (rather, floated a few centimeters above the lid of her coffin) and watched her silently, ever-present cigarette dangling from his lips. "Don't deny it!" She pointed a finger at him.

"I'm not denying it," he replied matter-of-factly. "I do look at you and see that spirited young woman I cared for back before the War. But I see you differently now, too." He puffed away on his cancer stick as she glowered.

"How?" she growled. "How do you see me differently?"

"I don't lust after you," he answered plainly. "Not like I did when I was a human." He took the cigarette and flicked imaginary ash before placing it in his mouth again. Seras knew it was a habit of his, as was crushing out ghostly cigarettes under his boot as if they were real. "It's hard to explain, really."

"I bet it is," Seras hissed, turning away from him. She kicked out at the chair and it flew to hit the wall with a clatter. She stomped over and picked it up, putting it back in its place forcefully.

"Were you?" Pip asked suddenly. She turned on her heel and stared at him.

"Was I what?" she barked. He looked at her kindly, not letting her hot head get to him. She'd noticed _that _about him too; he hardly got mad at simple things anymore. Perhaps being a spirit gave you a whole new outlook on life that you just couldn't get with earthly feelings.

"Feeling jaded. Jilted. Whatever he said." Pip tilted his head thoughtfully, holding it up with one shoulder as he crossed his arms. "I remember that once you weren't his servant anymore, he hardly said three words to you. And you didn't go to him either, cher."

"Of course I didn't." She shooed him out of the way and opened up her coffin to sit inside. Pip hovered in the air for a moment before floating down to sit on the floor. A vampire's coffin was their sacred space, where the soil of their birthplace lay. No one, not even ghostly familiars, was allowed into it unless given explicit permission. "He didn't need to train me anymore, and words are wasted unless they have a meaning."

"But that doesn't answer my question," Pip said meaningfully. Seras took off her boots and lay them at the edge of her coffin before taking the lid and carefully propping it up on the wall.

"Of course I did, at first," she said bitterly. "Who wouldn't be? But loneliness, I can deal with. I didn't need anyone as a child, I didn't need anyone as a human, and I don't need anyone now." She lay back in the coffin and sighed, her body relaxing. Pip sighed as well, crushing the cigarette under his boot. Seras opened her eyes at the noise and he looked at her sadly. She sat up and he reached for her, only to have her smack his hand away.

"Don't you dare pity me," she spat before grabbing the lid and slinging it over her body, slamming it down on the coffin. The slam echoed like thunder in the stone room and the Captain laid a gloved hand on the lid before vanishing, leaving the vampiress inside with her thoughts.

"Wake up." Seras opened her eyes, her mind calling forth a memory from decades before, when she was still young and new to the night. She stared unblinking at the figure inches from her face, her eyes trying to make sense of the light and shadow.

"What?" she grumbled sleepily when she realized that it was just Alucard. "I'm sleeping." The man bent over her huffed and straightened.

"Not anymore you aren't," he shot back. "It's time to get up; vampires don't sleep the night away." She rolled over and stuck her head into the fluffy pillow she'd gotten to replace the tiny, uncomfy silk one that had come with the coffin. "There's a full moon out tonight," he added with a flourish.

Seras snorted: as if _that _would entice her to do anything but lay about tonight. But the more she thought about the moon, hanging low and bright over the landscape with its dips and craters and soft, sweet light, and how it would make the night seem pleasant and glorious; the gentle, caring moon—she wanted to go and see it.

She lifted herself up out of bed and ran both hands through her hair and over her face as if wiping away her sleepy feelings. She looked at him, her eyes traveling over his clothing before resting on his nose, of all things, and she frowned.

"What do you want?" she asked, and her confusion sounded honest enough. He arched his brow and stood, holding out a hand. She took it hesitantly and he pulled her onto her feet with ease.

"I want nothing; I was just coming down to tell you that you were missing out on a truly beautiful night." She shivered automatically at the wording; it brought back too many memories of bloodshed and violence. Even now, she wondered if she'd walk upstairs to find people attacking the manor and killing everyone.

"Well don't worry about me," she said icily as she brushed past him and out the door, heading to the upper levels. "I don't need you coming to check on me." But this time, he didn't let her go. He followed her, staying silent. She could feel his eyes watching her every move, and it sent shivers up her spine. What was he doing?—that should have been the question she asked him. The jolt of irony set her laughing inside; that was what he'd been asking her for the longest time now, no matter how obvious the answer was.

"I would hope not," was the only answer she got and she bit back a snarl at the mocking tone. Didn't he have better things to do than waste his nights cutting her down? If he didn't want to have anything to do with a weakling like her, it would be better for them both if he stayed away. Nevertheless, as they both walked outside, she kept his undivided attention.


End file.
